Windows
by casfics
Summary: When it emerges everyone at Holby is at risk of losing their job, there’s chaos. For Ethan in particular, he can’t find a solution to escape the life he has been propelled into. Things change when someone unexpected offers help to he and Alicia, but they are put in an impossible situation.


_So I had this idea today whilst sitting in a dreary exam hall for the best part of an hour with **zero** to do. It is January mocks time, guys, and I have a list of things to do as long as my arm and no time in which to do it. This will be the case for the next few weeks, and probably the next few months, till I finish all my exams mid June. Student life sucks. Also I feel really sniffly and generally without motivation — obviously I must store every last bit of energy for the important stuff. That, and the necessaries like trying to work and interact with my friends family. Busy busy. I **am** trying to update all the stories but it will probably take a while. Your continued support is still appreciated, your lovely comments are all read and I hope you are all having a great new year so far! _

The month is February. It is predictably quite chilly. Especially chilly on the roof of the hospital. A cloud of grey swirls and ascends, spoiling the milky white backdrop of sky.

'Do you have to do that?' Ethan's voice is withering. He can't see a reason why she should — it is dangerous, disgusting and most of all, expensive. It is literally setting fire to money then inhaling it, alongside other toxins, into your lungs.

Though a medic herself, Alicia looks at him with a raised eyebrow. Like she thinks she's invincible, or that " _just one_ " won't hurt. As if to make a point, she takes another drag, exhaling impressively into the open. She is keen to do it more, but it's her nature. When told no, she perseveres to prove wrong. Again, a quality that makes her successful in her profession, but woefully poor in terms of backing down when needed.

She gives in and puts it out, and he emerges from under his scarf.

'No need to cover your nose, I'm not making you smoke it,' she sighs.

'Passive inhalation.' He mutters.

She scoffs then, throwing the stub in the bin carelessly. 'You underestimate how robust you are.'

'And you overestimate yourself! It's naïve to think the universe will spare you for harming your body, believe me, _it won't_. I try to take particularly good care of mine since it already pledges to attack itself inevitably.'

The bin wobbles in the wind, so she outstretches a foot to kick it. 'God, you don't live, do you?'

'Just because you're on the warpath, doesn't mean everybody else has to be.'

The comment hits home and quells both individuals and the situation. They choose to lean over the balcony instead, watching the comings and goings, idly award they should be below helping and treating all the injured being wheeled through the revolving doors. But, breaks are few and far between, and motivation is dwindling. Things are rapidly declining in the trust. Even more so since the morning meeting with Mrs Beauchamp, where it had been made blatantly obvious many junior positions would be lost and all consultants would have to reinterview. If successful, they would be required to work an additional 25 hours a week, including two night shifts.

The news certainly was a bombshell to receive, worsened by the absence of caffeine in their veins. Their livelihood about to be uprooted, wrenched from the ground with such a force it will surely leave a mark. It will definitely mark the bank account, considering Christmas had only just passed. The blow means the hospital won't host them anymore, meaning: they search outside the trust, therefore a long and impractical 50 mile journey IF they should be successful, _or_ moving cities, _or_ quitting medicine all together. No option seems feasible.

Instead of reacting calmly, Alicia had hit the roof. It had taken three members of staff to try and calm her down, but to no avail. She had stormed out and done the reckless thing: smoked. By doing so, she ironically committed herself to trends that many prestigious professionals in the healthcare industry set — solve your problems with drink and drugs. It is an escape, but renders them in no position to reprimand patients or sternly advise them to quit. She likes to argue in favour of escapism, be it whatever method, and it's something Ethan struggles to counter. It is definitely hypocritical, whichever way it's looked at, but she has no real reason to care. She can do so to her heart's content, if the job is lost, what matters?

Eventually, she turns to him. 'What will we do?'

He posts his hands into the pockets of the familiar, trademark hoodie. A garment he's grown rather fond of; a garment of identification. Whilst trying to warm up, this involuntarily pops into his mind. He then feels sad, almost as if he has hollowed by the idea of leaving alone.

'I don't have the answers,' he looked up, honesty coming naturally. 'Look for a new job, I suppose.'

'You're not reapplying here?' She asks.

With a dutiful sigh, he fumbles around in his trouser pocket. Out comes a used tissue, a bottle of hand sanitiser that was banned for smelling too strongly of strawberries, his wallet, and finally the packet of chewing gum. He passes it to her and she takes a piece without another word.

'Why would I reapply?' He says, irritated. 'And tire myself out till the day I die myself? I love my job, of course I do, but I cannot physically work a longer week. Money aside.'

'You only just passed your exams _and_ you have an option not to be skint,' she points out. 'I don't.'

'You can't see it, can you? What is the use in money if I am paying bills for a property I don't live in? Buying food that just goes off in the fridge or gets left uneaten in some Tupperware in my locker because I just haven't had the opportunity to eat, all day?'

She falls quiet, running her hands down her face in frustration. 'We could always do a Lily and run off to Hong Kong.'

'Cause fleeing the country solves everyone's problems.'

'Come on, I didn't mean it like that.'

'I know, sorry, I'm snapping. We... we need to see what the plan of action is. We need to bide our time. The little time we do have. At present, everything is steady, the flat is nearly paid off, we have savings and food and I can access Caleb's savings too, and—'

'Yeah,' she manages a little smile, pushing the chewing gum to the roof of her mouth. 'Course we will manage.'


End file.
